Monica measured the spaces and checked the terrace while I followed behind her, answering precisely about usable square footage and kitchen remodeling. When Harrison opened the door and saw her framing the main staircase, he put his briefcase down on the floor.
“What’s going on here?” Harrison asked. Monica smiled professionally and explained that we were preparing the sales sheet for the property.
Harrison turned towards me with an expression somewhere between disbelief and offense. “Elena, tell her to leave,” he demanded.
“No,” I replied. Monica immediately understood that this wasn’t a real estate misunderstanding and continued working discreetly.
“No? Are you crazy?” Harrison took a step toward me. I told him that I wasn’t crazy, just tired.
“This house belongs to the family,” Harrison’s jaw tightened. I corrected him, stating clearly that the house belonged to me.
I saw in his eyes the exact moment he realized the deeds and my father’s donation meant the house was my separate property. “You’re married to me. You can’t make a decision like this without talking about it,” he said, lowering his voice.